I would like to serve notice on all of you out there who are in the habit of forwarding emails.  If you are going to send me one of those stories that touch the heart I need a damn warning in the subject line!  Yesterday I received an email about a miracle baby who was born pre-mature and the result was that I was having “a moment” at my desk for a few minutes after reading it.  I was able to compose myself before anybody crossed the threshold of my office door but can you imagine if someone had needed something while I was sitting there all verklempt?  I have an image that revolves around being fun loving, strong and a little bit scary and it just wouldn’t do to have someone seeing me with moist eyes over some email about a baby and the ordeals of a family that I do not even know.  So have a little compassion for the big ol’ Red Hog and warn me if you are going to send me that stuff!  As I read the following mail forward my mind raced back eighteen years when we spent three months in an intensive care neo-natal facility facing many of the same grim situations that the principals of this story faced.  That being said, here is what set me off:

 

The Smell of Rain 

A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the Doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. Still groggy from surgery, her husband David held her hand as they braced themselves for the latest news. That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only 24 weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency caesarian delivery of Danae Lu Blessing. 

At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound and nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature. Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs. I don't think she's going to make it, he said, as kindly as he could. "There's only a 10 percent chance she will live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could be a very cruel one." Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating problems Danae would likely face if she survived. She would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on. "No! No!" was all Diana could say. She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away. 

As if willed to live by Diana's determination, Danae clung to life hour after hour, with the help of every medical machine and marvel her miniature body could endure. But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana. Because Danae's under-developed nervous system was essentially raw, the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love. All they could do, as Danae struggled alone beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close to their precious little girl. There was never a moment when Danae suddenly grew stronger.

 But as the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength there. At last, when Danae turned two months old, her parents were able to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later-though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero. Danae went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.

Today, five years later, Danae is a petite but feisty young girl with glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for life. She shows no signs, what so ever, of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she is everything a little girl can be and more-but that happy ending is far from the end of her story. 

One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Danae was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of a local ballpark where her Brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing. As always, Danae was chattering non-stop with her mother and several other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell silent. Hugging her arms across her chest, Danae asked, "Do you smell that?" Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, "Yes, it smells like rain." Danae closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?" Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet, it smells like rain. Still caught in the moment, Danae shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, "No, it smells like Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest." Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Danae then happily hopped down to play with the other children.

 Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all along. During those long days and nights of her first two months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Danae on His chest and it is His loving scent that she remembers so well.

          Wow, my life has changed since the return of the family.  I find I am tired.  I am very tired.  I really don’t know why because I am actually sleeping more than I did in the families absence.  I am not finding that the presence of sharing our home is causing a significant amount of increased activities nor are unreasonable demands being made of my time so I don’t quite have a grasp on what the fatigue is all about.  Maybe it has something to do with being mentally present to an environment outside my own little world.  Paying attention can be a lot of work I guess. I do want to pay attention.  My twins are seniors in high school and my youngest is just starting out in the real world of first grade. The first seven months of the kids being away my son was living here but we have so much in common it was easy to operate my life on auto pilot.  We both enjoy sports, bathroom humor and action flicks so my mental acuity was not taxed to any extreme.  The last two months I was the sole occupant of this house and I guess there is no denying that the lifestyle afforded by living in solitude is relaxing if nothing else. 

          The tired feeling I have is a content tired that comes from the satisfaction of living a fulfilled life.  It’s the tired feeling of deep thought and consideration when my kids talk about their future.  Believe me the idea of paying for tuition for twins will make you tired.  My daughter is narrowing her college choices down.  Northwestern seems to be the front runner.  I love that she is such a gifted student and that scholarships will play a big role in financing her education.  We may end up with only one tuition bill, however, as my son is considering joining the Navy.  As a parent who is opposed to the things our President is doing with our military it pains me that my son might take that path in his young life.  Still, a great sense of pride swells within me that he is considering serving this great country.  Whatever he decides to do I know he will do it with all his heart and that is all a Dad can ask.

          So happy Friday to ya.  This week went really quickly for me.  I suppose that has a lot to do with the lifestyle change and knowing that “She who must be obeyed” would only be here for a week.  See ya tomorrow.

Georgie Porgie, puddin' and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry
When the boys came out to play,
Georgie Porgie ran away. 

 

Or

 

Georgie Porgie, puddin’ and pie

Hid from Nam in the Texas sky

When the Guard called him up one day

Georgie Porgie ran away

 

          Yesterdays post was almost exclusively about the master bathroom in my home but exception was made to referring to the “I’m the decider” comment by little Georgie Bush.  Not being one prone to obnoxious needling and agitation I just couldn’t let that alone.  I found these amusing video’s for your enjoyment. 

 

http://www.symbolman.com/chickenhawks.html

http://www.ericblumrich.com/topgun.html

http://www.takebackthemedia.com/triwimp.html

 

          My Monday post generated quite a bit of email.  http://redhogdiary.com/2006.08.20_arch.html#1156130252939 Most of the feedback found the rant to be uncharacteristically acidic, some was disapproving and others found it right on and comical.  When I reviewed it I wasn’t sure I did the best job of communicating what was really upsetting me.  My motivation for the rant was that I am very weary of having my patriotism being questioned because I have higher hopes that America should be doing a better job of creating a stable world.  I am sick of those opposed to the war being branded as cowards when the old men who have sent our troops to harms way wrote the book on evading harm’s way.  I’m angry that conservatives continually refer to liberals as the tax and spend crowd when government spending under this Republican administration is at a world historical high.  The current national deficit is $8,508,996,924,085.92.  That’s trillions kids.  http://www.brillig.com/debt_clock I’m bitter that we are bombarded with terms like liberal media when the major media is controlled by mega communication giants who are reaping huge benefits from supporting the conservative agenda.  I loathe the idea that conservatives claim sole ownership of Christian values and ridicule and judge liberals as Godless.  I find it the epitome of hypocrisy that conservatives would talk about family values when so many of their leaders show no support of families in the legislation they pass and then turn around and lead lives of corruption and infedility that cause me to ask my kids to turn their heads when we watch the evening news. 

          I’m a liberal and I am proud to tell you. 

This morning I awoke to the sounds of what sounded like a leaf blower in my bedroom.  Startled, I arose in my bed only to discover that my daughter had decided to utilize the master bath to prep for school.  The sound I was hearing was merely her thirty-five gazillion watt chrome plated detatchable diffuser variable speed ergonomic hair dryer. I harumphed and rolled back over.  I was certain that I could paw at the snooze alarm four more times before I would be in jeopardy of being tardy for work.  Twenty four minutes later, the time that elapses between four swats at the snooze button, I rolled out of bed and the daughter was still going through her morning ritual.  I shrugged, scratched my ass and plodded my way down the stairs in search of coffee.  I love coffee. 

          Once I had enough caffeine to successfully navigate my way to the shower the day began to show some promise; the sun was coming up, the boys awoke without much hassle and we had a birthday to celebrate.  It was wonderful to watch the little guys eyes light up when he saw the packages for his birthday stacked in the living room.  Remember birthdays when you were that age?  Every package held unlimited possibilities of adventure and escapism.  I have tried many times, when playing with my kids, to totally lose myself in the busy play of a child.  I can’t do it anymore and I long for that.  No matter how hard I try to imagine myself as the action figure, the driver of the hot wheels car, or the chief of police in the city just built by building blocks I can never totally get rid of projects at work, obligations of parenthood or agendas of organizations I am involved with.  So it goes.

          Shower time!  The requisite caffeine had transformed my plodding footsteps to a full blown shuffle and I made my way to the upstairs bathroom.  The master bath has a shower but the hall bathroom has a full tub and shower and I like the elbow room of the full sized bath.  I love a good hot shower and once that was done I had regained my normal full-blown cat like agility. (uh-huh)  I scampered towards my room and into the master bath where I quickly noticed that something was wrong, very wrong!  All of my stuff was gone!  In place of my trusty Gillette razor and Edge shaving cream were a thousand bottles of face wash, moisturizers and body splashes.  Where my deodorant and tooth brush cup had rested for the last 12 years were enough foundations, lip glosses, blushes, eye liners and mascara pencils to stock three aisles at a CVS store.  My Jovan Musk: Gone!  My beard trimmer: Gone!  The hair brush that I seem to need less and less as the years go by: Gone! 

          At this point a fuzzy memory of a dispute between the daughter and “She who must be obeyed” began to unfurl in my troubled mind.  My daughter, while living in DC had grown accustomed to having her own bathroom.  She had taken it upon herself to claim my master bath as hers while fully expecting my wife and I to share the hall bathroom with her brothers.  She could not possibly be expected to commingle with the boys now that she had experienced the bathroom nirvana that is a woman's private bathroom.  I guess the wife didn't fare so well in that dispute.  It’s a good thing that my daughter had darted off to school before I was able to find all of my morning essentials and achieve the barely presentable image that I present to the world each day. 

          I live across the street from the county Sheriff and he happened to be in the driveway as I jumped on my Harley to head for work.  He’s a good neighbor and is fully aware of the comings and goings of our family situation here but I think he was a bit surprised when I roared out of my driveway and rode straight into his.  I plead with him, “Sheriff!  You have to make them leave!”  He laughed and assured me that he could imagine my pain of losing the freedom and space I had enjoyed for the summer but was somewhat less than helpful with regards to evicting the family.

          Not being one to give up easily, I am friends with the Agent In Charge of the local FBI office that has space in the building that I work in.  I saw him on a break and asked him if he could be of any assistance in restoring my domicile to the peace and quiet that I was only days ago so anxious to fill with the footsteps and voices of the family I missed so dearly.  He was no help.  Tomorrow I am going to pick up a Soldier of Fortune Magazine and see if there are any bodies for hire to take on this dangerous mission.

The work day enabled me to calm down considerably before I found myself pulling in the driveway.  I made a bee-line for the daughter and told her in no uncertain terms would her little plot to take over the master bath would not fly and that she might as well get started moving her stuff out immediately.  I told her that I didn’t care how she did things out East but back here in Iowa I was the decider and she would have to abide my wishes.  That comment had all of the force and credibility that it had when little Georgy Bush made his “I’m the decider” speech earlier this summer.  She laughed and I think I have a 15 percent chance of finding my stuff in the morning.  Wish me luck.

          Cat-Woman, my baby sister, had surgery tonight.  The surgery was supposed to be at 6:30 so we drove to Waterloo to be with my Mom and niece.  At the time she was supposed to be out of surgery the staff reported that they would soon have her in the ER.  That was nearly four hours from the time of this posting and they expect to be finished within a half an hour.  I’ll give you an update as soon as I get word.  While some might describe the procedure as routine I’m not sure any surgery is really routine.  It is reminiscent of the old story of the Harley mechanic: A mechanic was removing a motor from a Harley when a world famous surgeon walked into the shop. The mechanic yelled across the floor to the doctor, "Hey Doc, can I ask you something?"
The surgeon was a bit surprised but he walked over to the mechanic. The mechanic straightened himself up and wiped his hands with a rag and said, "Look at this engine doc, I can also open hearts, take out valves, fix 'em, put 'em back in and when I'm done they'll work just like new. So how come you get the big bucks when I barely have enough to get by?"
The doctor leaned in close to the young mechanic and whispered, "Try doing it with the engine running."

          Medical professionals have always amazed me.  My twins were born eight weeks premature and during the three months they were in intensive care we saw many efforts by the staff that completely changed my perceptions of what the human mind is capable of.  I know and have known some very brilliant people in my life but the most impressive minds I have ever come across work in the medical arts.  First thing in the morning my twins, those preemies, will head out the driveway to begin their senior year of high school.  How in the heck did that happen?  Tomorrow also happens to be the seventh birthday of my youngest boy and his first day of first grade.  I’m not sure that the Cedar Rapids Public School System is ready for another Wilcox.  They better tighten their bootstraps.  My youngest wears a prosthesis on his right leg and we have seen some miraculous efforts by medical professionals on his behalf as well.  I’m not sure if I have told you this story before but one time I had to take Carter to the clinic because he came down with a bug at school.  When the Doctor, whom we had never seen before, entered the examination room he asked us to tell him why we were there.  Before I could answer, Carter told the Doctor that he couldn’t feel his toes and lifted his prosthesis up for the Doctor to take a look.  I think the Doctor wanted to laugh but he was too taken aback by the then five year olds sense of humor to fully grasp what had just happened. 

          We just got word that my sister’s surgery went well although they are concerned about some infection they saw so she has earned a couple of additional days at the old hospital.  Get well soon Cat, we want you home!

          I think it was last week that I wrote about Monday’s being like other days and that I didn’t buy into feeling remorse over the end of the weekend.  After a Monday like this one I may change my tune.  Sheesh! 

         

          Our local paper had an editorial from some dumb-shit hick in a god-forsaken podunk town in Eastern Iowa that claimed only conservatives have the compassion to volunteer and support community projects.  The logic behind this moronic diatribe was that all liberals want to do is tax and spend their way to oblivion and that liberals all lack the moral integrity to work for the endless entitlements for which they believe they are owed.  Would anybody object if I went to visit Hooterville and kicked this guy’s ass?  First of all, I can’t believe our local “liberal press” would print such an editorial but more significantly I’d like to see statistical evidence to support his claims.  Oh wait, maybe my definition of volunteerism has too narrow of a scope because I don’t think that I was including volunteer hours worked at Casino Night at the Country Club for the member’s only scholarship foundation.  I’d stack up my volunteer hours and fundraising activities against any conservative demographic group in America and I’m confident that they would be embarrassed with regard to their lack of civic involvement.   

          Then I read in the paper that liberals just don’t know the facts regarding the war on terror.  Reflecting on Bush's warrantless wiretapping program being delcared unconsitutional by a Federal Judge, David Limbaugh, the dumber brother of Rush, said Liberals are “inexcusably clueless about the nature of terrorists and the gravity and scope of the threat they pose or they are aware and choose to lend them moral support anyway.”  Opposing the bungled mess of the way the Bush administration is now supporting terrorists?  Let me run this by you; President Bush said “those who agree with a federal judge that his warrantless surveillance program is unconstitutional simply do not understand the nature of the world in which we live.”  Yeah, if you don’t agree with the emperor you just don’t know how the world works.  Here is what I do know.  The Bush administration has been highly critical of the militant factions in the Middle East as being a force of instability.  Condoleezza Rice recently admitted that in the 15 years leading up to 9/11 our policies in the Middle East had been that of maintaining stability.  Our focus now, according to Rice, is to bring Democracy to the Middle East. 

          I don’t know.  I’m thinking that, in the big picture of things, stability may have been a better policy.  Had Bush paid ANY attention to stability in the Middle East in the first nine months of 2001 would there have been a 9/11?  Conservatives are very quick to point out that since 9/11 there have been no other significant terrorist attacks on American soil.  Before Bush was in office there had been none.  I do not think that arguing to maintain our Fourth Amendment protections is un-American.  I think supporting an out of control administration that has escalated world conflict and global instability is un-American.  Allowing Gestapo tactics by an incompetent and power-hungry government is just the victory that terrorists would hope to achieve.  So it kind of seems to me that Limbaugh only had one thing wrong and that is which side, proponents or dissenters, of the war on terror are actually supporting terrorists.

          Sunday morning and it’s all about the family.  My sister is in the hospital with a raging gall stone.  We are going to head up to Cedar Falls to poke her in the back a few times and tease her a little bit.   I’m considering shaving my chin and hiding her in the closet of her hospital room so I can be in her bed the next time the nursing staff comes around with her dose of morphine.  My sister is a beautiful woman but is cursed with the characteristic Latino mustache from time to time.  Don’t forget to pluck Cat-woman! 

          Five people are now in this home that was but a house when it was solely occupied by moi.  The returnees are a little bit noisy and messy and the TV that had only been operated to watch the weather channel each morning as I put on my shoes is getting a workout.  I love it!  There is so much activity, conversation and laughter that I am finding it all a little exhausting.  Proof of that is that in the family’s absence I was operating on an average of four hours of sleep per night; the last two nights I have slept for ten hours.

          We are all learning what it is to be a family again and that is a wonderful thing.  When my twins were but wee pups I always used to remind them that family is the absolute most important thing in life.  I always warned them that friends may come and go but as a family we will always be available for each other.  It is my hope that no matter what life throws in my kid’s way they will always know home is a loving and secure environment where they can retreat to mourn, recharge or even gloat with respect to life's challenges and victories.  We understand what is important to each other and will always apply the appropriate significance to the important things in each others lives.  

          Today will be a busy day.  The family balked at the idea of Bac-O sandwiches so a trip to the grocery store is in order.  School starts Tuesday and school supplies need to be purchased.  The lawn needs a little attention and there is unpacking that remains to be completed.  We have that appointment to harass my ailing sister at the hospital and Grandma hasn’t seen the family all together since Easter so I suppose I should get started on repairing myself to some semblance of a human being that is appropriate for public participation.  It’s Sunday morning and I have family stuff going on.  I’m the Dad and that’s my job!